Scarred
by croxley
Summary: "Jasper," she whispered in a comforting tone he hadn't heard in years. "How did you get this scar?"


Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

 **Scarred**

"Jasper," she whispered in a comforting tone he hadn't heard in years. "How did you get this scar?"

•••

He stood in front of her, fingers on the buttons of his shirt.

"You need to know..."

Jasper's voice trailed off as his eyes searched Alice's face. She took a deep shaky breath, amazed again how he made everything else slip away until it was just the two of them. She met his gaze and was surprised to see his eyes full of questions.

The first time he kissed her she'd felt the magic. It was the way he'd grabbed her waist, pulling her toward him until she felt his body against hers and then he bent down and everything crackled with electricity as she wound her arms around his neck, tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him back. It was a feeling of being pulled out of her body, of floating in some strange universe where the only things left were the feel of his hands on her waist, the pressure of his lips, the slip of his tongue in her mouth.

She kissed Jasper Whitlock. _Jasper Whitlock._

Alice stepped toward Jasper, her bare feet padding across the carpet of her bedroom. She put a hand up to cover his and felt it trembling.

He looked…vulnerable. Alice had a hard time incorporating the term 'vulnerable' with the Jasper Whitlock she knew.

"Let me." Alice murmured as she pushed his hand away. Her fingers found the first button on his shirt and she carefully popped it out of the buttonhole. Her fingers slipped under the cotton fabric and found bare skin, brushing lightly with her fingertips before she moved to the next button.

"Alice."

She leaned forward and placed her lips on the patched of bare skin she'd exposed, leaving a light kiss. Then she flicked out her tongue and tasted salt and sweat.

"I need you." She said against his chest then tilted her chin up to look at him once again. "Please."

Her arms slid up his shoulders and around his neck, and she was tangling her fingers in his hair again, pulling his face down toward hers. Their faces were inches apart when she heard him say…

"No."

"Jasper?"

Every part of her body ached to feel his lips on hers again, to feel his fingers on his skin. Alice trembled, wanting to press her body against his but his hands had come up between them and were pushing her away from him until they were standing face to face with a couple feet between them.

"You need to know…"

His voice cracked a little and Jasper shuffled his feet. She looked at him, trying to read what was in his eyes, to figure out where this was going, and then he looked away and stared at the carpet.

"What is it?" Alice asked, reaching out to touch his arm, to remind him he wasn't alone. Jasper flinched as her fingers touched his skin. He lifted his head and looked at her again. Alice saw shame. And tears.

"I have scars."

"From him?" Alice asked softly, stepping closer. Jasper's shoulders slumped.

Him. James. His father. The person who was supposed to protect their child, make their world safe.

"Yes."

She took another step and reached out to touch his arm again. This time he didn't flinch. Her hand slowly stroked up his arm, to his shoulder, along his collarbone, her eyes never leaving his the entire time.

It stopped on the third button.

"Let me see." Alice murmured.

Jasper said nothing as she undid the third button, then the fourth, and the one after that, until his shirt was hanging open. She pushed the shirt over his shoulders and slipped it down his arms, then let it slip to the floor.

Jasper tried and failed to suppress a shiver as Alice drew a dainty red tipped finger up his back, across his shoulders and then down his arm, before coming to rest in the space between his thumb and pointer finger.

He remained still as she traced the faded diagonal scar that lay there, up and down. He knew the question was coming, and he wasn't surprised when a second later she took a deep breath and asked what was on her mind.

"Jasper," she whispered in a comforting tone he hadn't heard in years. "How did you get this scar?"

Jasper's nervousness stemmed from his worry over how his tale would be received. He had never had a good experience when it came to revealing the truth about what kind of man his father really was. In the past, his confessions had been met with either disbelief, betrayal, or the loss of the person from his life, and always a run-in with an enraged James. Eventually he'd learned to keep the truth to himself. Nothing good ever came from revealing the truth.

Taking a deep breath and expelling it rather forcefully. He lay there silently for a few moments, trying to decide the best way to tell her, how much to tell her. He was so lost in thought he failed to notice Alice's hand reach out and sneak across his chest. It wasn't until she slowly linked their hands that he noticed she'd moved at all.

"You don't have to tell me Jasper, if you don't want to."

Jasper rested his chin on the top of her head, inhaling the sweet smell of her shampoo. It would be nice to tell someone knowing that he would be believed and not screwed over in the end. On the other hand, he didn't want her opinion of him to change. He didn't want her to think him weak or pathetic. He didn't want to set her wondering if or when genetics would win out in him and he would turn into his father. It was a thought he struggled with every day, he couldn't handle it if she did as well.

"Jasper?" Alice questioned, propping herself up on his chest before placing a kiss on his chin.

"I was nine," Jasper said quickly, practically forcing the words from his mouth. "His firm had lost a big client to a rival company, so I was trying to stay out of his way. I managed to do it about two days."

"And on the third day?"

"Parent teacher conference," Jasper ran his fingers through her hair, twirling the silky strands around his fingers. "He didn't like what he heard."

...

 _The sound of the front door sliding open had Jasper halting in his tracks, plate of food balanced precariously on his hand, bag of chips clutched in the other. He stood frozen in the kitchen, listening as the door was shut with a soft click that sent his heart pounding hard and fast in his chest. Over the years, Jasper had learned his fathers tells, committed them to memory. He had them all down to an exact science. He could tell just by the way James opened a door what was in store for him._

 _When he was angry, the doors would be thrown open, crashing against the wall with such force that it could be heard throughout the house. Then he would slam them shut with the same force, once so hard he had shattered a window. Those times were usually followed with an order for Jasper to get a belt and meet him in his office. Afterward he would lay still on the floor long after James had left, waiting for the sharp stinging to turn into a dull throb before he dragged himself to his room._

 _When James was in a good mood, the doors would again be thrown wide open, except it would be his loud cheery voice that echoed through the house rather than the bang of the door. Jasper hated those times. They always made him anxious, wondering how long James's good mood would last. He would spend that time questioning every move he made, double, and triple checking his every decision, desperate not to do anything to set James off, desperate not to give him that one reason he needed. Despite his best efforts he always eventually slipped up, and it was actually almost a relief. Once he received his beating he could stop worry about when it was coming, and in his opinion that was a good thing. The beatings he could handle, but never knowing when they were coming was almost unbearable._

 _Then there were days like this one, when James was livid. When all the frustration of the past week or month reached a boiling point. These were the days Jasper had come to fear the most. It was like navigating a mine field, everything looked calm and peaceful but one false step and it was over. Days like these the door would slide open with barely a sound and shut with a soft click. Then the only sound echoing through the house would be the strangely intimidating click of shoes on expensive tile._

 _For the briefest moment Jasper considered running and hiding, but quickly dismissed it as a foolish notion. He would eventually be found and the punishment for that little stunt would be worse than if he had just stayed and taken whatever James planned to dish out. Jasper shivered as memories of being locked in the closet for hours on end flashed through his mind. He'd learned his lesson the last time. So he stayed put in a tense silence._

" _I had an interesting conversation with your teacher this afternoon," James stated, casually leaning in the kitchen door way, arms crossed._

 _At the sound of his father's voice Jasper jumped violently, causing the plate in his hand to tilt and slide from his grasp. He dropped the bag of chips and made a desperate grab for the plate but missed. The plate crashed to the floor and shattered, the shards mixing with the chips. A second after the plate fell Jasper was on his hands and knees hurriedly trying to clean up the mess._

" _Leave it," James commanded, pushing himself away from the door way and moving further into the room._

 _When Jasper failed to heed his order James stormed over to where his son knelt and smacked the broken pieces of porcelain from his hand, sending them flying in different directions and Jasper jumping backwards, slamming his head against the cupboard._

" _I said leave it!" James shouted, eyes blazing._

 _Jasper remained crouched against the cupboard, heart racing, hand's trembling. He didn't dare move a muscle. He watched silently as the wild rage in James's eyes worked back down to a simmer._

" _Get up," James ordered calmly, pulling himself up to his full height._

 _Jasper quickly scrambled to his feet but kept his back pressed to the cupboard, wanting as much distance between him and his father as possible._

" _I had an interesting conversation with your teacher this afternoon," James repeated._

 _Jasper remained silent, eyes locked on the floor._

" _It seems my son is having trouble focusing in class. It seems he is disrupting the learning environment. Would you care to address these allegations?"_

 _When it became clear that Jasper wasn't going to respond James moved forward, crowding Jasper, forcing him further into the cupboard behind him._

" _I want an explanation Jasper," James said, eerily calm._

 _Jasper nervously pulled at his sleeves, pulling them down over his hands as he tried to come up with an acceptable answer. "I uh….I…"_

" _You uh?" James questioned mockingly. "I had to take two hours out of my day to meet with your teacher, who had nothing good to report. I expect a better explanation then 'I uh.'"_

 _Jasper's mind was racing as fast as his heart as he tried to come up with an acceptable answer. His mind was blank. He could do nothing but pull nervously at his sleeves._

" _Nothing? You have no explanation."_

 _Jasper licked his lips and pulled at his sleeves, fighting the urge to run._

" _Look at me," James ordered. "Look at me!"_

 _Jasper quickly jerked his head up, his gaze locking with James's as he tried to control his trembling._

" _You're in school what? Six hours a day? Are you telling me that you can't manage to behave for six hours?"_

" _No, I –"_

 _James cut in, "Do you just like causing trouble, or are you just too damn stupid to focus?"_

 _When Jasper didn't respond James moved even closer, his tone low and tense. "Well, which is it? Are you a troublemaker or are you better fit for special-ed?"_

 _Jasper's eyes filled with tears, but he didn't dare let them fall. His mind raced to come up with the answer his father wanted, the answer that would bring the least amount anger, the least amount of pain._

" _I'm…I just," Jasper stumbled over his answer, pulling at his sleeves._

" _I'm waiting Jasper."_

 _Jasper drew a shuddering breath before he continued in a whisper, "I'm stupid."_

 _James eased back, gazing drifting off to the window. "You're stupid," he said softly, as though mulling over the response._

 _Jasper could see the tightening of his muscles, the tick of his jaw. His gaze shot between James and the kitchen door, the urge to run overcoming him. Just as he shifted his weight in preparation James's arm shot out, slamming into the fridge, effectively blocking Jasper escape. Jasper quickly jumped back, knocking his elbow into the counter, he cried out as sharp pain shot up his arm._

" _Stupid," James said tightly, his eyes narrowed in anger. "You're telling me my son is stupid. That I have a stupid child."_

" _No," Jasper cried desperately, his heart pounding as if he'd just run a marathon, pounding so hard it hurt._

" _So, you're not stupid?"_

 _Jasper shook his head, cradling his arm close to his body._

" _That's right," James stated. "You're not stupid. You're a liar."_

 _Jasper's gaze dropped to the floor._

" _You know what I hate Jasper? People who don't take responsibility for their actions. So I'm going to ask you again, are you a troublemaker or just stupid?"_

" _I'm a troublemaker," Jasper responded immediately, as a tear ran down his cheek._

" _What's that? I didn't hear you," James said, moving in, placing a hand behind Jasper's neck._

" _I'm a troublemaker," Jasper repeated._

" _That's what I thought," James's grip tightened on Jasper's neck._

 _Jasper reflexively tried to pull away from the restrictive hold. He immediately realized his mistake, his gaze jerking up to meet James's. He watched in growing fear as James's eyes narrowed in time with the further tightening of his arm on Jasper's neck. A second later James threw him to the floor._

 _Jasper cried out sharply as his knees slammed into the tile floor, his hands pressing into the broken pieces of plate as he caught himself. He barely had time to think before James had him by the scruff again, forcing him to stay down._

" _What do you have to say for yourself?" James demanded._

 _When Jasper failed to give a timely response, James forced him down so he was lying flat on the floor. His hand was trapped under his body, and a rather sharp piece of the plate was digging into his hand. Finally, the tears that Jasper had been trying to keep at bay broke free and he began to sob and plead with his father._

 _James ignored Jasper's pleas as he kept Jasper pressed firmly to the floor. He continued talking, but Jasper could no longer make out the words over his sobs and the pounding of his heart. Eventually James released his grip on Jasper and got to his feet, Jasper however remained on the floor, not daring to move a muscle._

" _I want you to clean up this mess and then go to your room. You're not to leave the room for any reason," James stated firmly. "And Jasper, the next time you're in class I want you to remember that everything you do is a reflection on me, on this family. I will not have people thinking I don't have things under control." With that said James walked out of the room, not sparing a backwards glance._

 _Once Jasper was sure James was gone he pushed himself up to his knees. He drew a shuddering breath, trying to get himself under control. When the throbbing in his hand became too much to ignore he lifted his hand and saw that it was cut and bleeding heavily. He considered getting a bandage for it, but thought better of it. Instead he wrapped it up in the bottom of his shirt and set to cleaning up the mess, tremors running through his body every so often._

...

Minutes passed after Jasper finished his story, long minutes filled with a silence that neither one of them seemed willing to break. Alice had never thought of silence as a tangible entity but, as she lay pressed against Jasper, her head pillowed on his chest she could swear she felt the solid weight of it pressing into her, holding her down. She was desperate for some way to end the quiet, but was at a loss as to what she should say, would say. What the hell did one say in a situation like this?

Alice swallowed past the lump in her throat and blinked back the tears welling up in her eyes, before glancing down at his hand, still clasped firmly in her own. She lightly ran her thumb over the faded scar. There'd been a reason she started with that particular scar. It was the smallest one on him; she'd foolishly assumed it would be the least traumatizing story. Judging by the scars that littered his body she doubted that was the worst of it. She had wanted to start off slow, ease them both into it, start off in the shallow end of the murky pool, but after the story she knew there wasn't going to be any shallow end, just one deep fucked up pool. She wasn't entirely sure she was ready for it.

She remained silent, unable to come up with a response. Alice moved her eyes onto a white circular scar just below his shoulder. She touched it, feeling the bump under her fingertips.

"Cigarette." Jasper said quietly. "I was ten. I spilled my drink on the carpet. I was glad when he quit smoking."

Alice leaned forward and kissed the scar lightly.

Next her fingers found a long white gash on his shoulder. She stroked it softly, following the contours of the raised flesh.

"Leather belt. I was fourteen. I ditched school and he found out."

Alice followed her fingers with soft butterfly kisses, trying to remove the pain. Jasper's breath hitched with each touch of her lips. She pulled back and looked at him, absorbing the pain in his eyes. Then she grabbed the hem of her own shirt and quickly pulled it over her head. She reached around her back and unclasped her bra, pulling it off and letting it fall to floor.

She wanted to stand in front of him, naked, bared and vulnerable. Maybe this way he might see that she had scars too. Scars that weren't as visible as his but still ached deep inside her.

She stepped forward again and pressed her breasts against his chest, enjoying the way his skin felt hot against hers. Her hands slipped around his rib cage and skimmed up his back until they found another long ridge of scar tissue she traced with her fingertips.

"Lamp cord." Jasper murmured as he stared down at her, attempting to look at her eyes which she pointedly avoided.

Her eyes stung with tears as she wrapped her arms around Jasper and held him tightly against her. She wanted to find the words to tell him she was sorry. Even if it didn't mean anything, she was so very sorry. She wanted to find every single person who had ever ignored the marks on his back, the sunglasses to hide black eyes and scream at them. She wanted to go find that bastard and hurt him in the same way he'd hurt his son.

"Alice?" Jasper's voice finally broke the silence, sounding strained, nervous.

Fighting back a fresh wave of tears Alice pulled his hand up to her lips and laid a gentle kiss over his scar, before she resumed tracing it with her thumb. "You didn't deserve that Jasper. You didn't deserve any of it."

Jasper didn't respond, just released a shaky breath and pulled her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. Once again they lapsed into silence, though this one not nearly as tense as the first. Alice laid still as Jasper stroked her hair, her back, her arms, slowly easing the tension from her body.

"We can't choose our family." Alice whispered into Jasper's chest. His arms squeezed her against his chest, so hard she was surprised she could still breathe. Then his fingers were on her face, stroking down her cheek, tipping her chin up. His lips were on hers, and his kiss was bittersweet and gentle. She tasted her tears on his lips.

"Can I ask you something?" Jasper said after a few minutes, stroking her forearm.

"Go ahead."

Jasper lightly tapped her arm with his pointer finger. "How did you get this scar?"

Alice released a sound caught between a laugh and a sigh. "You're kidding?"

"Nope," Jasper replied.

Sitting up, Alice met Jasper's gaze. She searched his eyes, trying to figure out where he was going with that question. He raised his eyebrows mockingly at her, fixing his face with an expression that would usually inspire a laugh, but he couldn't hide sadness in his eyes, not entirely. He was trying to ease the tension, make her feel more comfortable, give her an out, and she loved him for it. Ignoring the tears pooling in her eyes, Alice leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips.

"The scar?" Jasper questioned when she pulled back.

"First grade," Alice replied, blinking back her tears and clearing her throat. "Emmett McCarty. He wanted to use my sparkle crayons and I said no."

"So what you're saying is you never knew how to share."

Alice rolled her eyes. "He had a reputation. He was a crayon eater. Anyway, when I said no he got mad and cut me with a pair of scissors."

"Jesus," Jasper cringed.

"It's okay," Alice assured him, lying down to face him, tucking some stray hair behind her ear. "In the fourth grade, at recess he pinched my butt while I was on the monkey bars. I chased him across the play ground, cornered him by the fences and kneed him in the balls."

Jasper released a bark of laughter. "That's my girl."

Alice joined in his laughter, but she was already preparing herself to ask about another scar.

•••

 _"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens, but it is never gone."_

 _Rose F. Kennedy_

•••


End file.
